


Such is My Fate

by Khaelis



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Love Confessions, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29966835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaelis/pseuds/Khaelis
Summary: Eivor wished Randvi could say no, just to keep fate away a while longer.But Randvi always said yes.
Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed)
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I knew I was bound to write more for this ship!  
> There will be a second chapter and the rating will go up a few notches - you've read the tags.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)

* * *

It wasn’t the first time they did this. In between raids, diplomatic visits or kingship battles, it was something Eivor always looked forward to. It was exciting, the thrill that sent a shiver rolling down her spine just before she asked enough to fill her with warmth, even on the coldest days. A little scary, as well. She never knew if her tongue or her body could betray her. All it would take would be a word that should have remained unspoken, or a gesture of a hand that should have remained still. Sometimes, she hesitated before asking, but an invisible force always nudged her forward. Sometimes, asking was the first thing she did, even before she could give an account of her adventures.

It did not matter when, what or how she asked. Randvi always agreed. Always an unwavering, firm  _ yes _ . As if she had been waiting for the question and had the answer ready to fall from her lips. Eivor was grateful for that kind of answer. No doubt, not even a shadow of one, only a smile carried by her voice and a sudden light in the depth of her eyes. It made the drengr feel safe. It made her question so right, when the dark side of her mind tried to make it so wrong. 

Eivor knew each time she asked brought her closer to the fate she had been cursed with.

Randvi always agreed. Each  _ yes _ made Eivor love her more. Each  _ yes  _ was one more dent in her resolve. 

“Will you accompany me on an errand?”

“ _ Yes _ .”

***

They had never seen such thick and violent snow before in these lands. Eivor could no longer feel her fingers and struggled to rein the galloping horse through the woods. It was becoming dangerous. Roots, rocks, rivers turned to ice were hidden under the white coat, the cold wind lashing at her face making it difficult to keep her eyes open for more than a second at a time. They had strayed too far from Raventhorpe during their escapade, and their surroundings were unfamiliar, even more so under this abject weather.

“Eivor!” Randvi shouted to cover the whines of both the wind and the horse. “Do you hear it?”

“I… I think I can see a cabin ahead of us!”

This reassurance was the only thing Eivor was willing to offer. Panic would not help them with their predicament. She could hear it, just as well as Randvi. How the sounds of the hooves ploughing a soft layer of snow over earth and moss had turned into a louder, higher pitched clopping. And behind them, cracks, splintering noises, not unlike those that echo throughout the land when Thor strikes his anvil and fills the skies with thunder.

The trees were gone around them. A lake, Eivor thought as she kicked the horse harder. They had crossed the bridge at Duroliponte early in the morning and had been headed for Besuncen Tor to find new riches. If they had strayed too far south, which they most probably had because of the snow, then Eivor knew where they were. And she knew the cabin she was seeing in the distance was an uninhabited fishing hut. 

“We are almost there, Randvi, hold on!”

The shape of the hut became clearer as the horse picked up the pace, aware of the menace following in its steps. 

***

“At least we are protected from the snow,” Eivor commented as she dropped two bags of resources on the floor of the crumbling hut. “I believe I can make us a fire. We also have some boar left.”

“Thank you, Eivor,” Randvi smiled.

“Do not thank me. This adventure could have taken your life. I would not be able to live with myself if something were to happen to you. This should be the last time, Randvi. I will not ask you again.”

Eivor sounded bitter. She  _ was _ bitter. What she had meant to be a light-hearted spree through the forest had turned into a deadly ride on a frozen lake. They could have died. Randvi could have died. This was not worth a self-indulgent wish to spend time with the woman she loved. Eivor had made it clear she would not betray her brother, she would not allow her visions to shape her future. These adventures only served to weaken her resolve. She was taunting her fate, mocking the warnings and trying the Gods’ patience. This would be the last time.

“If you will not ask me again, then I will,” Randvi said softly - Eivor did her best to ignore her and busied herself with flints and a wicker basket to make a fire in a corner of the small room. “I spend my days standing at a table with no other company than a map and a candle. I am a good warrior and a good strategist, and yet my only duties are so trivial I sometimes forget who I am. Get more salt for the horses, get more wine for the Roman collector, settle petty disputes over too loud snoring or wall decorations. This is not me. It is only with you that I can truly be myself. I feel alive when I am with you, Eivor.”

“It is not safe,” Eivor simply answered, poking the twigs of wicker with a stick to make the beginnings of the fire grow. “I know your worth, Randvi, and I understand how you feel. But I will not be responsible for your death.”

“As if you have any influence on my fate,” she scoffed, a glare darkening her features. Randvi angrily threw her wet fox fur and cloak in a corner and tried to unlace her boots with frozen and shaky fingers. “I am not your puppet, Wolf-Kissed. I am here because I want to, and I could very well leave this instant and find death on my own out there. Eaten by a bear or turned into an icicle, but at least I would die  _ someone _ . Not just some scullion planted at a table with nothing better to do than sculpt ravens and get more salt for the horses!”

Everyone said Eivor was strong. Capable. Fierce. When Randvi was around, she was none of those things. Her heart tightened in her chest when she spared a glance at the woman sitting next to her. Randvi’s usual dexterity and habile hands were struggling with the laces of her boots. The cold, the frustration and the anger she must have been feeling did not do much to help. 

Eivor was weak. So very weak, when Randvi was around. She wrapped her calloused hand around the fingers that were about to give up on their task and squeezed them gently.

“Let me,” Eivor spoke with as much kindness as her raucous voice would allow. 

It took her some time to rid Randvi’s feet of the wet and stiff leather. That time was made longer, heavier by the quiet cries Eivor could not ignore. She tried, of course she tried. She  _ should  _ ignore them. She did not need nor want a reason to act on her feelings rather than her reason. But she loved Randvi. The deeper she buried her feelings, the faster they came crawling back out. The more she denied them, the more she realised just how true they were.

Eivor cupped Randvi’s cheeks and wiped the tears away with a soft brush of her thumbs.

“I do not pretend to have any influence on your fate, Randvi. You could leave, if you wanted. But you know I would follow you. I know you are a strong and capable fighter, I know how bright and resourceful you are. But like the sunflower cannot help but follow the sun, I cannot help but follow you. You are my sun. Such is  _ my  _ fate.”

“Please, Eivor, don’t,” Randvi whispered - and despite the shake of her head, her cold hands found their way to Eivor’s face. “Do not talk of the fate you so desperately fight to escape.”

Eivor swallowed a shaky breath. She did not want to tell Randvi the despair she once felt had turned into a feeling of cold indifference. She did not want to tell Randvi she only pretended to fight. But she also refused to lie. This might have been a knot in her fate, this might have been the moment her life could begin anew or fall apart. It did not matter. Not any longer. She would follow the thread that would lead her back to Randvi, just like the winds had always done.

“I have stopped fighting. I have stopped thinking. I am giving up, Randvi. Fate does not bind me to you any longer. My heart does.”

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to get carried away so there will be a third chapter.  
> The chapters are also quite short, but I have less time than I would like to write these days - sorry!
> 
> Next and hopefully last chapter will be uploaded by the end of the week.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

* * *

The words hung in the air, floating along the trails of white smoke rising from the small fire, the silence only broken by the crackling of reddened wicker and the snow still roaring around the hut. 

The weight that had been bearing down her shoulders for too long was gone. The web weaved of fear and suffering that had been clutching her heart had loosened its grip. Eivor felt free. Free to savor the sweetness of words spoken with affection on her tongue. Free to revel in the warmth and the comfort the confession filled her body with. Free to hope she had not killed the feelings Randvi once had for her, free to hope there was still a chance, even a slim one, to start now what they should have started almost two winters ago.

“I had to silence my feelings for you for so long, Eivor,” Randvi said with a smile that was not drawn on her lips by joy. “I had to keep my heart quiet since that day at the top of the tower. You made your decision quite clear and I only wished to respect it. It would have been painful to wait for something I so desired but thought could never have. Too painful.”

Eivor understood. She understood, but it did not make the resentment that washed over her any less cruel. She had waited too long. And she hated herself for it. 

Shame and anger coloured her cheeks and she started to unlace her own fur boots, just so she could keep her eyes and her hands away from the other woman.

“I understand,” Eivor shrugged nonchalantly, trying hard not to sound morose or look defeated. “I am sorry, Randvi, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

The warrior neatly put her boots down against the wall, an attempt to find some order in the chaotic mess she had thrown herself into. They would be trapped in this hut until the snow storm would be blown further west by the strong winds. What should have been a providential opportunity to spend more time together away from prying eyes had just become a night of inconvenient intimacy. A whole night in a small hut about to yield under the assault of the storm, with nothing to keep them warm but a very small fire that would not last and a couple of furs, nothing to keep them busy but their own thoughts and feelings. 

She started to stand up with the intent to fetch the furs from the saddlebag, but a firm hand on her shoulder stopped her. She sat back down, looking into the turquoise eyes shining like precious jewels under the quivering light of the fire. A hand found her cheek and her jaw clenched - because of the cold of the skin, or the sudden and unexpected touch, Eivor could not say.

“Your face is warm,” Randvi said softly - which only made Eivor’s cheek grow even warmer. 

“It might be that your hand is cold,” she retorted without malice.

“Take the other, then. We shall see if your face is simply warmed by embarrassment or if my hands are chilled by the weather.”

Eivor  _ was  _ embarrassed and although she knew her face was unusually hot, she knew Randvi’s hands were equally unusually cold - how it felt on her cheek and how they looked, a bit too red and stiff. A mighty drengr never denied an opponent a challenge, even if the chances of winning were thin.

So Eivor took Randvi’s other hand and brushed her thumb over the knuckles. For a moment, she forgot why she had taken that hand. She was fascinated by the elegant shape of it. Long and slender fingers, soft skin. A few nacre scars, long healed, from the battles she must have fought in a previous life. Velvet-like fingertips, smoothed by hours spent leafing through papers and sanding little wood sculptures. 

She had never paid attention to those hands before - they were  _ hands _ , and she had always believed hands were not meant to be observed for their beauty. Looking at the hand she was holding, Eivor changed her mind. She liked this hand. Not for what it was as such, but for all the images it conjured up. That hand in hers, fingers laced together. That hand in her hair, on her neck, on her breast. That hand against her lips, between her thighs.

She blinked when the fantasy became a little too real, and she remembered she was supposed to speak when Randvi tilted her head to the side, searching for her eyes and an answer.

“My face is warm, and your hands are cold,” Eivor concluded after clearing her throat, letting go of the hand. “Compromise?”

Randvi laughed, and Gods, Eivor would have never believed the usually stern and matter-of-fact voice could bloom into such charming music. Had she ever heard her laugh? Had she even ever seen her smile - a real smile, not the polite and plain ones she offered guests and clansmen? 

Now that she came to think of it… She had. She remembered a few times. And she remembered the genuine laughs and smiles only happened when it was the two of them, after a fight, after a horn of mead, after a meal shared on a riverside. And she had the same reaction every time. Awe. Joy. Pride. Pain. It filled Eivor with wonder to know she was the one to make Randvi happy, even for a fluttering moment that would soon pass. But it filled her with grief that these moments were rare. Who else did she laugh with? Who else did she share smiles with?

_ Surely a lot of people _ , she tried to reassure herself.  _ I simply am away when it happens. _

“I am glad you find this funny,” Eivor grinned.

There must have been a hitch in the tone of her voice, a slanted shadow on her face, because Randvi’s smile faltered and she bowed her head in apology.

“Sorry, Eivor, I did not intend to be insulting.”

“And I did not intend to sound reproachful. I  _ am  _ glad, Randvi. I like your smile and your laugh. I like seeing you happy. I really do.”

The smile disappeared. Vanished completely. 

Eivor wondered if she had said something awful when there suddenly were two hands on her cheeks pulling her forward. If her face had been warm a second ago, it was nothing compared to the searing heat that swallowed her whole. Her blood boiled under her skin and the breaths she couldn’t take made her heart beat harder, faster, so loud she couldn’t hear the fire crackling in the corner and the snow storm raging outside any longer. 

Randvi’s hands were cold, yes. But her face was not. Her lips and her tongue were not.

Eivor let herself be consumed by the fire. It wasn’t burning. It was  _ healing _ . If she had had any doubt left that this was what she wanted, what she needed, it would have melted away under the softness of those lips and the eagerness of that tongue.

Eivor wanted it. All of it. All of  _ her _ . She pulled Randvi closer, as close as she could, a strong arm around her waist and a strong hand around her neck, but it was nowhere near enough. She kissed her hard once, twice, and her willpower was drained in an instant when she forced her body to pull back. 

“I need to…” Eivor started as she aimlessly waved at the bags, only stopping when she realized how out of breath she was, how hoarse her voice was.

Randvi smiled, sighed quietly and put a soothing hand over the heart Eivor was sure would burst free from her ribcage. 

“We have time, Wolf-Kissed,” she said softly as she ran a fingertip over the scar carved on her cheek. “Time to speak. Time to share.”

“I… May have been impatient,” Eivor offered as an apology, a sheepish shrug pulling her shoulders. “You are right. We have time. No need to rush. I shall prepare a bed for the night.”

Eivor took a calming breath and brushed her thumb over Randvi’s cheek. She wanted to show tenderness. She wanted to show her she was not desperately starved for that kind affection, that she cared for her in all the right ways. 

The two bear furs she found in the saddlebag were spread on the floor to make a thin but soft and clean bedding. As a cover, she only found a pair of spare tunics they had brought with them in case of an improvised swim - it happened more often than she was willing to admit. It was a meager loot, but apart from trinkets and coins they had found in a cave, the bag did not contain much. The furs they had been wearing were still wet, but they thankfully each had enough layers that the ones underneath remained dry. 

They would be cold that night, even colder when the small fire would die. Eivor hoped they would hold each other to stay warm. 

“You should put your clothes by the fire while it still burns,” she advised Randvi who was busy blowing on the embers to rekindle the flames. “They might dry before the cold makes us ill.”

Eivor got rid of her own garments and armor, unbuckling the many belts and straps with the ease of habit. It usually did not take her long. Usually. Her movements grew slower as she watched Randvi undress. There was a certain grace in the way she removed her clothes. Methodical, piece by piece, each item carefully folded and set by the fire. When she was done, only linen pants and a loose-fitting shirt remained. These weren’t the most suggestive clothes Eivor has seen a woman wear, but somehow she loved it. Not for its sensuality, but for its warm and comfortable appearance. It filled her with a fuzzy feeling of  _ good _ . Simplicity and intimacy.

And then she untied the braid she always wore, set her hair free and ran fingers through it. Eivor had never seen her without that braid and she was taken aback. She was beautiful. How her hair framed her face, undulating as she moved, draping over her shoulders. She was  _ beautiful _ .

“Please come to bed, Eivor,” she said as she sat on the bear furs, rubbing her hands together over the fire. “It will be warmer if we stay close.”

Eivor nodded and hurried to remove her breastplate and her humid padded trousers. It was hard to hide how awestruck she was - wide eyes, gaping mouth, a certain hesitation in her steps. She was sure she looked like a proper fool. If Randvi noticed her reaction, she did not let it show - apart from that small smile on her lips as Eivor sat next to her, maybe.

The drengr could not help it. She was drawn to that hair. She carefully let her fingers over its fiery length, to feel its softness. She brushed a strand that had fallen over her forehead away, tucked it behind her ear. She was  _ beautiful _ . A wave of affection coursed through her body, a need to hold her, kiss her, be with her. Eivor rarely cried anymore. Somehow, what she felt in that moment made her eyes water and her throat tighten. How had she lived these two long winters with that much love imprisoned in her heart? 

"You wished to speak," she said, just to redirect her thoughts on a safer path.She hoped Randvi could not hear how affected by her presence she was.

"It is more a need than a wish," she replied, anxiously toying with a lace of her shirt. Too busy with her own worries to notice Eivor’s.

"Anything you need I can give you, I will. All you need is ask, Randvi."

"Then I need to know…"

Randvi bit her lip, the rest of her question lost in silence. She seemed hesitant, unsure, scared. As if she feared what the answer might bring.

Eivor took her hand, her hold loose should the other woman refuse the touch. When the soft fingers squeezed her hand back, the warrior dared to be bolder, reassured that Randvi was not rejecting her. She cupped her cheek, tilting her face up so she could see her eyes. She whispered an encouragement, and another, and another, until Randvi leaned into her palm and wrapped her fingers around her wrist.

"I only need to know this is real," Randvi finally confessed, letting their forehead meet as they both moved closer. "I tried so hard to accept this couldn’t be. I tried so hard to lock my feelings for you away. I tried but never could. I was willing to wait for you forever. I still am, Eivor… I cannot let you curse me with another painful memory. I would rather wait a while longer so you can be sure...”

“I am sure,” Eivor interrupted, the affirmation carried by a strong and steady voice. Eivor hoped she could hear the truth in that voice. “I am sure, Randvi. I have been a coward and a fool blinded by visions from another realm. I will not let an ill-omened fate influence what I want to be. Not any longer.”

“And what is it that you want to be?”

For a moment, Eivor thought about the best way to build an answer that would both reassure Randvi and be truthful. She wanted to be a fierce drengr who protected their clan and fought against its enemies. She wanted to be a force that could be relied on and a friend that could be confided in. She wanted to be a helping hand and a thinking head. Eivor wanted to be many things, but she knew that most of those things, she already was. Believed she was. 

She looked at Randvi, at the face and its sharp shadows drawn by the light of the fire, at the beauty of her eyes and what she could see in them - affection, confidence, intelligence.  _ Hope _ . The corner of her lips twitched into a smile when she realised no convoluted answer was needed.

“Yours. I want to be yours.”

* * *


End file.
